"What is it with all you people? Is there no one left on this planet who cares more about the world than themselves?" Alex exclaimed.
"You leave me no choice, Alex. Hand it over." DuPont moved toward them.
"Fine," Alex placed the suitcase on the floor in front of her and folded her arms across her chest.
DuPont took the bait and reached for the case. Alex jerked her knee up, colliding with his jaw making him stumble back onto the floor at which time Sam kicked the gun from his hand.
"You idiots! You don't know who you're messing with! They'll kill you! They'll kill me too!"
"Who DuPont? Who is trying to kill us?" Alex hissed, but DuPont remained silent.
"Grab his gun, Alex! We don't have time to play games with this guy. Last chance, DuPont. Speak up," he tried again, but still, DuPont refused to answer, and Sam jammed his right fist into DuPont's face rendering him unconscious on the floor.
"You okay?”
"Fine, let's just get out of here before I do something I'll regret," Alex answered.
With the office door quietly closed behind them, Alex informed the girl that her boss had asked not to be disturbed and that she was to hold all his calls. The naive girl didn't query it and promptly returned to her keyboard.
The duo made a run for the exit, choosing to descend the two floors via the stairwell instead of using the elevator. Apart from one guard in the foyer, the office building had few security measures in place. When they entered the lobby, they spotted the guard on his two-way radio and ducked into an empty meeting room.
"He knows," Alex whispered.
"The girl must have checked in on DuPont. No way the guy is already conscious."
Relieved to have the safety of the small meeting room, Alex checked the barrel in DuPont's revolver. "It's full."
"Good, something tells me we might need it," he said, peeping through the small window in the door. "We're going to have to take our chances and make a run for it before the police get here. I can't see the guard, but the exit is unattended. I'll carry the case. Ready?"
Alex nodded as she handed him the case and pushed the small revolver into the pocket of her jeans. Sam yanked open the door, and the couple sprinted across the foyer, narrowly escaping the guard who had come out of nowhere directly behind them. His panicked voice shouted for them to stop, but Alex and Sam had already slipped through the exit and disappeared into a group of pedestrians crossing the street.
Behind them, the police had pulled up to the building sending a multitude of excited screams from a small group of Chinese tourists on the sidewalk—now eagerly snapping away with their cameras. In the distance, they heard the police ordering them to stop, but they kept running. The iconic glass pyramid structure outside the Louvre stretched out in front of them. Relieved that the expansive plaza surrounding it was bustling with tourists and visitors they used it to their advantage and headed toward the more crowded corners. Female screams alerted them that the police were not far behind.
Caught between the police gaining from behind and the entrance to the museum in front of them, they had reached the end of the large public square. The pair searched for the best way out.
"This way!" Sam pointed Alex toward the large bridge that ran over the nearby Seine.
Faced with having to cross a bustling roundabout they raced between the oncoming cars which seemed to have no particular direction and caused several small collisions in doing so. Sam ran in front and navigated them to the pedestrian walkway that ran alongside the bridge. Just then two police vehicles pushed into the roundabout directly behind them. Their feet thumped hard on the pink-tinged walkway. Narrowly missing a few oncoming cyclists, they forged forward. Behind them, gaining fast, the police made it through the congested traffic onto the bridge. Now in a frantic state, their eyes searched in a futile attempt to find an alternative escape route knowing they could never outrun the police. Much to their disappointment, they spotted more police cars approaching them from the opposite side of the bridge. Wedged between law enforcement officers fast approaching them from both sides, Sam and Alex stopped, frozen in time in the middle of the bridge. It was Alex who spotted the approaching houseboat on the river cruising underneath the bridge. With unspoken words, as if they shared one mind, they turned and jumped.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam hit the flat wooden deck of the long narrow barge first, shortly followed by Alex. Behind them the skipper frantically cussed at them from behind his wheel. Alex leaped across the deck and pushed her gun into the angered captain’s ribs instructing him to speed it up. The man did as he was told. From the bridge, the police ordered them to stop, but Alex thrust her gun harder into the captain’s side and pushed the boat’s throttle full speed ahead. The police fired off a shot hitting the stern directly behind them. It was clearly intended as a warning shot to frighten them into surrender. Instead, it resulted in the skipper attempting to wrestle Alex for the gun. Fully anticipating his reaction, Alex responded by breaking his nose with a backward jab of her elbow. The man squealed with pain before Alex knocked him unconscious with a sturdy left hook to his jaw. Another warning shot from the police hit one of the engines, narrowly missing its propeller. But as the distance slowly grew between the boat and the bridge, Alex and Sam managed to elude the police once again.
The luxury eighty-foot private longboat powered at its limited top speed through the once calm waters of the Seine. In its wake, waves threatened to capsize a couple on their kayaks sending more than a few obscene hand gestures their way, and Alex slowed it down to the permissible four mph speed limit. Apart from the skipper, there was no one else on board. Sam had dragged the wretched man below deck where he gagged and tied him to the small built-in diner.
"You certainly showed him who is in charge. The poor chap is lights out," Sam stepped back on deck with two brandies in hand. "Thought you might want some sustenance.” He handed her a glass before adding. ”This is where Bond would disappear with the girl below deck, by the way."
Alex threw back the strong French liquor. "Bond didn't have an audience that could wake up at any time and let's not forget we're not exactly out of danger yet, Sam. What are we going to do with the guy when he wakes up?"
"We should dump him."
"In the water? He'll drown. I'm not a murderer."
"No, I meant, we should drop him off, onshore. He'll wake up and find his way home."
"And how long do you think before they track us down on the boat? I wouldn't be surprised if the police already put barricades up further down the river."
Sam didn't answer. Instead, he stuck his hand into a narrow compartment behind the wheel and pulled out a map. Alex watched while he flipped it over, unfolded one side and folded in another.
"There.” He pointed to a particular spot on the map. “That's a canal, one of several that run through Paris. We'll drop the captain off somewhere here to throw them off our trail and then make our way back to this canal over here. They can't possibly have men on each canal. My guess is they'll focus on the main thoroughfares for now. It will, at the very least, buy us some time, and God knows we need that right now."
Alex smiled, briefly placing her head on his shoulder. She could always count on Sam's ability to think under pressure. He was right. They desperately needed time to rethink their plan. Too much had happened, and they were entirely in the dark.
When they managed to successfully leave the still unconscious skipper on an empty mooring in the shade of a large leafy tree, they turned the boat and headed back for the canal as planned. Since the river was bustling with tourist boats and private charters, they remained alert and on guard. As luck would have it, the private boat was fully stocked with food and a small collection of men's attire. They continued down the narrow canal without stopping, briefly taking turns behind the wheel to afford each other a short break for a quick shower and clothing change.
"Look what I found—the skipper’s laptop.“ Alex settled into the chair next
to Sam where he was at the wheel. "I thought I'd start a search on the guy who wrote the letter."
It wasn't long after typing in the author's name that Alex found what she was looking for. Reading her findings out loud, she continued searching via the online search engine.
"It says here that R.J. Pinoir II was the son of the doctor who performed the autopsy on the uncrowned King of France. Louis Charles died from tuberculosis in the Temple prison at the age of ten on June 8, 1795."
"DuPont said it was a confession. What could the son of the medical examiner possibly be confessing to? Makes no sense."
"Wait, there's more. Apparently, the doctor, R.J. Pinoir I, kept the boy's heart. Says he wrapped it in his handkerchief and later stored it in alcohol as a souvenir. It was then stolen by one of his students who, on his deathbed, had an attack on his conscience and had his wife return it to the Archbishop of Paris where it stayed until the palace was later attacked in the Revolution of 1830."
"So if anyone had anything to confess it would have been the student who stole it from the doctor," Sam commented.
"Then that means this letter is simply the son reporting that his father had stolen the heart in the first place or knowledge of the student who stole it from him in turn. Of which neither is very significant this late in the game. So why was it under lock and key, and how did d'Andigné get hold of the heart?"
"See what you can dig up on him. A guy with that much money has to be associated with something."
Alex typed his name into the search field. "Um, just that he's extremely wealthy with a net worth of fifty-three billion Euros—that’s roughly fifty-nine billion dollars. He's a chairman and major shareholder of a retail conglomerate but made his money as an art collector and owns one of the largest collections of post-Impressionist art worldwide. Never got married."
"An art collector. That explains how he might have come to have the heart. Maybe he bought it at an auction somewhere along the line."
"And hid it under his floorboards. What for? It's not the Mona Lisa, Sam."
"Perhaps, but he might have also discovered the letter. DuPont did seem rather nervous, not to mention that he pointed a gun at us and was prepared to kill us for it."
"You're right. But there's nothing clandestine about a confession that's been out there for centuries is there? I mean, so what? He did the autopsy, stole the boy's heart, and kept it as a souvenir—big deal. The boy was already dead and buried. That's not much of a secret to confess to or keep hidden. I don't think any of this has to do with the letter. DuPont didn't just want the letter. He wanted the heart also."
"True, and it is, in fact, a picture of the heart d'Andigné sent you not the letter. I think we're onto something. Anything there on the chess pieces? I find it bizarre that both Maurice d'Andigné and DuPont wore identical rings. D'Andigné's ring had a bishop, and DuPont had a knight in his. Whereas, the guys on the train and Philippe had pawns. It has to mean something."
Alex clicked away on the laptop in search of some answers, but it turned up empty. "Nothing, just a whole lot on how to play chess. I can't even find a similar ring on eBay."
She slammed the laptop shut. "Now that d'Andigné's dead we'll never know why he lured us here. None of this is making any sense."
"Let's think this through, Alex. The man sent you a letter saying he needs your help. Then a newspaper article informing you of the dauphin's existence and that he died, taking the monarchy with him. After that, you get the picture of the heart."
"Exactly, and then everything turned into shambles, and we're right in the middle of it with dead bodies everywhere. Including his, if I might add."
"I think we can safely rule out that it was d'Andigné who had us followed or tried to kill us. Whoever is after us killed him, and I suspect they are the same ones who were after the suitcase. It's the heart that’s important; at least enough to kill for and scare DuPont into pointing a gun at our heads. I'd also guess that whoever has him scared must be extremely powerful. DuPont is pretty well protected by several military agencies and governments."
Alex ran her palms up and down over her face as if she was washing it with invisible soap before she spoke again.
"What if Etiénne's theories aren't just his family's passed down tales? What if there's truth in it?" Alex ventured.
"You mean the part where the boy escaped and lived? That he never died?"
"Exactly. He did say no one ever saw the boy's body. What if it's all a cover-up?"
"You're talking about something that happened more than two centuries ago, Alex. That would be quite a cover-up that can be successfully kept under wraps for more than two hundred years. And by whom? Why? I'd say that's pretty impossible to pull off. I don't buy it. We're missing something."
"I guess you're right. After all, we have the boy's heart right here. Can't get more proof than that."
Alex got up and rested her arms over the railing as she stared out into the streets along the canal. Her eye caught the movement of a police vehicle—they’d just been spotted.
"We've been made, Sam. You've got to get us out of these narrow walkways."
Alex pulled out the map and traced her finger along the blue lines marking the canals.
"We're trapped, Sam. We've been going around in a massive circle surrounding the city. The smaller waterways will slow us down too much."
The sudden splash of a bullet hitting the water to the right of her had both of them duck down behind the wheel.
"Behind us, Sam!" Alex warned as she spotted a speedboat, moments before another bullet clanked against the deck, mere feet away from where they were standing. Alex fired back a shot which pierced their attacker's cabin window. In the street, alongside them, the police vehicle accelerated toward the approaching bridge.
"There!" Alex pointed to a small waterway not marked on the map for which the reasons became apparent soon after they took it. It was a dead ending onto a private mooring, which in turn, led directly into an apartment. Alex snatched a waterproof pouch from one of the small compartments and secured the heart inside. Sam watched as she hastily flipped all the nearest buoys into position over the railing before proceeding to run along the deck and doing the same with the rest of them.
"Get ready to jump, Sam," she yelled when she met up with him and forced the boat at full throttle into reverse gear.
"Now!"
They jumped and swam away from the boat toward the mooring and where they hid under the small wooden jetty. The longboat pushed back, colliding every so often with the narrow walls before regaining its course along the canal. Guided by the orange inflatables bouncing the boat away from the walls, it picked up speed. From the tiny gap underneath the jetty, Alex and Sam heard the attacker's boat approaching the canal's entrance and moments later the loud thumping sound of the two boats colliding sent rippling waves through the water toward them. The barge's powerful engines roared as it forced its way into the attacker's boat and mere seconds later, a thunderous explosion echoed through the short canal. When the second explosion hit, the ingenious couple cautiously swam their way through the channel toward the accident scene. As they neared the carnage, two dead bodies floated upside down in the water close by. From the low bridge, the police leaned over the sides in search of Alex and Sam while reporting the incident on their radios. On the opposite side, onlookers curiously lined up along the street.
"Think these might come in handy now," Sam gloated as he handed Alex one of two small emergency scuba tanks.
“Anyone ever told you how smart you are, Sam Quinn?"
"Not recently, but how about we get out of here, and you can tell me again over a baguette later."
Hidden by the dark brown waters of the canal, they took to their underwater passage and managed to evade the law undetected.
Chapter Fourteen
They swam for a solid fifteen minutes. Exhausted, cold, and with their eyes stinging from the filthy canal waters, they crawled out onto a narrow footpath underneath a
small overhanging pedestrian bridge. Flanked by the canal on the one side and a steep embankment covered in grass, they took to hiding behind the concrete bridge support.
“So much for getting all cleaned up.” Sam broke the tension as a bicycle’s wheels whirred across the bridge over their heads.
Alex unzipped the airtight pouch to find the relic still perfectly intact. It was late afternoon, and the air was chilly. The suburb seemed tranquil, apart from a few bicycles crossing the bridge. Unable to control her chattering teeth as her body fought against the cold, Alex wrung the excess water from her hair and duplicated the process with her pants and shirt.
“We need to get you out of these wet clothes and dried up before hypothermia sets in. Your skin is practically purple.” Sam’s hands searched for the pouch with their passports and cash, relieved to feel it just below his pants’ waistband where he’d taped it inside a zip-sealed freezer bag.
“Any idea where we are?” Alex spoke as another shiver engulfed her frozen body.
“Not a clue but it looks to be a smaller village. Perhaps exactly what we need to stay out of sight for now.”
They followed the footpath along the embankment to where it eventually ran into five stone steps leading up into the street. Further down the quiet street, a fresh food market buzzed with traders selling their local produce and crafts. It presented the perfect opportunity for them to get dry clothes and food. The swift walk brought about a positive impact on Alex’s body temperature transforming her purple skin almost entirely with a pink blush to her cheeks. Sam increased their pace as he navigated their way to a table displaying several used clothing items; sold to them in aid of the local hospice. It wasn’t long before the pair disappeared into an alleyway and changed into their new attire. Grateful for the warmth that slowly percolated through their bodies, they set off back to the market in search of finding a replacement suitcase and something to eat. In and amongst the array of traders’ tables, as they paused next to a spread of cheese and cold meats, Alex caught sight of a stall which displayed a large assortment of books and magazines. Her eyes settled on the cover of a magazine displaying a charred French flag that lay on the ground between a group of men wearing black suits with matching masks. Intrigued, she picked it up and read the heading.
The Dauphin Deception Page 10
